Chapter Text
Chapter 3
Once the ice and snow started to melt it felt like the ice between the two would never go away. But it was late spring, and the two kept their work relationship for so long. That night was never forgotten, just brushed aside by the two, a secret bubbling between them that they itched to tell.
Kuroo knew what he did was wrong, but he didnt know how Kenma would react to him. Kenma was confused, he didnt know what to do. He often just walked around his apartment rambling to himself quietly. it was wrong what Kuroo did, but it felt so right— this could've been a step closer to them reliving that night again if he wasn't so stupid.
Night and days went by painfully slow, something had to give, something had to change. Kenma, with no other options, resorted to going out to the bar again, this time alone. He buried himself in alcohol, the blaring music and the dim lights hid him from the gaze of others as he slumped over the counter.
A smooth voice rang out in his slurred mind "A hard seltzer, on the rocks please." that voice, the one that came from the lips that met his that day, the one that argued with him in the pure snow, the one that confused him with every word, that voice he so lovingly craved every night.
"Kuroo?" Kenma's head lifted over his arm enough to see that charming face. "Kenma?— Fuck— you're wasted.." Kuroo opening his lips to sigh, but before he could let out the breath his arm was entrapped in a hold from the younger man. "Kenma—" "Kuroo please.." tears welled up in his eyes, the golden ones that looked at him with praise just a couple years ago. "Kuroo I need you."
Kuroo paused, those were the only words he needed to hear. Those words were all he needed to whisk Kenma into his bed again and have his way with him. But not like this. Not with the alcohol that crowded the mans senses. Not at this place that felt like they would have another night to remember and crave to relive. "Kenma, don't. You're drunk and you need to go home." Though the boy probably wasn't even able to remember his address.
Kuroo reluctantly drove him home, but not to Kenma's house, back to his own apartment. he guided the younger man into the apartment, sitting him down on a bench in the entryway. He quietly untied his shoes for him, sniffles escaping him. Kuroo looked up at Kenma. "What are you crying for now?" He sighed, taking his shoes off before wiping his tears gently. "You don't love me." Kuroo's breath hitched for a second. "Kenma.-" he sighed heavily, it wasn't like he could answer with a straight yes or no.
The man ignored his question and brought him into his room, sitting him on his bed once again and digging in his dresser for something that would fit Kenma. He settled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. At this points the younger man was in his world, so Kuroo took the liberty of dressing him himself, restraining himself from doing anything further.
After about half an hour Kuroo at up in bed next to Kenma, on his phone desperately trying to distract himself from the situation at hand. It was late as hell and he was ready to get to bed. Yet Kenma had a different idea, He moved over to Kuroo, straddling his hips and leaning down to him before Kuroo could even ask what the hell he was doing. "Kenma please, You're drunk— you're not thinking rationally—" Kenma's eyes welled up once more. Damn how more many times is he gonna cry? — He's never like this when he's sober.
Kenma rested his head on Kuroo's shoulder instead, The older mans hands hesitantly landing on his waist and back, rubbing soothingly. This action felt nostalgic, how Kuroo would force him to curl up into his arms when life got too hard, when his energy wasn't built for this life, when the required commitment to volleyball became unforgiving. "You're. such— hic an asshole…" Kuroo felt the need to laugh it off, like he didn't mind. But he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt to hear it from those soft lips that pressed against his that night. When everything felt real— maybe for just a night— but it was as much as he would get.
The next morning was bittersweet, Kenma woke up in soft sheets, a duvet with foreign fabric. The pounding headache didnt hesitate to hit him immediately. A rough groan from the other side not the bed distracted him from the terrible hangover. Kuroo? He glanced under the sheets as a precaution. He was dressed, well not in his own clothes, but dressed. "Kuroo?" He hesitantly muttered. Kuroo rolled over, an anxious expression that mirrored Kenma's, gone was the "man whore" and here was Tetsurou.
" Kenma— You were— you were drunk." Well obviously, Kenma could tell that much from the hammering headache. Kenma pulled his eyes away from Kuroo's, sitting up, a wince escaping his lips. "Hey hey hey- careful." Kuroo moved closer, lifting his face with his veiny hands. Kenma swallowed, his words going right down with it. They sat in silence for a moment before Kuroo sighed and got up. "I'll go get you some painkillers." "I—" Kenma reached his hand out but hesitated, Kuroo's muscular back facing him as he walked out.
After several minutes of wallowing in self pity Kenma got up and attempted to find Kuroo. He ended up finding him after a couple minutes, back hunched slightly as he searched his cabinets. hearing soft padding he looked up, "Kenma" his voice stern. Doing his best to ignore the obvious annoyance in his tone, Kenma stood next to him. But not pressed up against his side, maybe a couple years ago, but they just shut it down as a "Semi-Homoerotic Friendship That Never Got Anywhere"
"here", He slid a cup of water and some ibuprofen to Kenma. Sipping from his own mug, the words "#1 Fucker" plastered on it like a tease, perfectly matched with Kuroo's eyes that peered over the rim. Kenma scoffed, swallowing the pills dry and looking down at the mug. "The hell you do to my water?" "Electrolytes, helps your hangover." He smirked. "Maybe that attitude will go along with it." Kenma skeptically downed the drink.
"You chug them like that too?" Kuroo leaned against the black marble counter tops. "I'm sorry?" "I meant your drinks— do you chug them like that too?" Kenma rolled his tongue around in his mouth before leaning on the counter on his side, a bit more tame. "Only when I'm stressed." He admitted. "So, like last night?" Kenma flipped him off and Kuroo smirked, setting his mug down, take Kenma's as well and putting them in the sink.
"Sooo, what was so bad that you, of all people, had to get wasted?" "The fact that my moderator is terrible at his job." he muttered passive-aggressively. "Must suck for him, pretty little boss can't stand him." He leaned in, too close for comfort— but what's comfort when Kenma was in his apartment, in his clothes, and a hangover that is supposedly his fault.
Then, out of absolutely nowhere, Kenma gagged. "Oh fuck—" Kuroo rushed to his side, "Let's go, you'll throw up." Kenma didnt speak or move till the next dry heave came, frustrating the older ma. "Shit— move your ass Kenma!" He lifted the younger man, praying he wouldn't puke before they mad it to the bathroom.
He gently dropped him in front of the toilet, without a second to spare Kenma retched and vomited. The site made Kuroo uneasy but he pulled himself together, gently wrapping his hands around Kenma's faux blonde hair. A tender hand stroked the younger man's back, pausing every time Kenma gagged. "I-I'm good now.." Kenma muttered, He wouldn't face Kuroo. "Go wash your mouth and I'll clean up.", Kenma nodded.
Kuroo walked into the living room, a small towel slung over his bare shoulder and he tossed a bucket next to Kenma on the couch. Kenma looked up, clearly puzzled by his reasoning— or lack of. Kuroo scoffed, "I'm not going to carry you to the bathroom every time you need to fuckin' puke—" "It doesn't matter— I'm leaving."